


A Sudden Soft Sweetness

by misura



Category: Caprica (TV)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There were two things Larry knew, or thought he knew, about what kissing Sam Adama would be like.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sudden Soft Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Sam/Larry, first kiss_ (geekcreative)

There were two things Larry knew, or thought he knew, about what kissing Sam Adama would be like.

The first thing was that Sam would taste like cigarettes. Larry's mama had always told him it was a filthy habit - and one that would be very bad for his health besides - and Larry had had to concede that his mama was indeed a very wise woman.

He'd seen Sam smoke several times now, which would have to constitute a habit, and each time, he'd found himself entertaining thoughts that were decidedly, definitely and deliciously filthy.

(As for the other part of her well-considered opinion: it didn't take a genius to figure that a Ha'la'tha hitman hardly made for any sort of healthy boyfriend-slash-potential-husband material.)

The second thing Larry knew, or thought he knew, about what kissing Sam Adama would be like was that it would happen at the end of their second date.

Ha'la'tha might go around killing people and taking things that hadn't been theirs before they took them, but they also had traditions - values, so to speak. There would be no hanky-panky of any kind on the first date, which would end in a dinner at a restaurant of Larry's (the invited's) choice, for which Sam (the inviter) would pick up the bill.

There might be wine; there might be more traditional Tauron beverages, but there would not be any drunkenness - at least not on Sam's part, as that would be considered bad manners.

They would talk about Larry's work, Sam's hobbies, Larry's hobbies, and the latest popular music. Politics would not be mentioned, nor Sam's job, nor anything at all related to the Ha'la'tha.

For dessert, there might be ice cream or coffee.

After dessert, Sam would walk Larry home, as first dates were not about impressing (or depressing) people by showing them how cool (or uncool) your car was.

Until they'd have reached Larry's apartment, the subject of a possible second date would be strenuously avoided. If pressed, they might discuss the weather, Pyramid and the newly built park.

At the door, Larry might turn and say something about how he'd like to see Sam again, or Sam might say he'd like to see Larry again, and a time and place might be agreed upon.

It would all be very tame, very polite, and slightly boring - aside from the fact that Sam was, of course, not a boring person. (On the other hand, Larry felt Sam might be even less boring with his clothes off.)

 

As it turned out, Larry was half-right.

(Or a quarter-right, if you were mathematically inclined.)

(Or very nearly and extremely happily completely wrong, if you came right down to it.)

 

Sam ate ice cream the way he smoked his cigarettes: there were probably (presumably) hundreds upon thousands of people who did it in the exact same way, and yet somehow the sight of them left Larry utterly unaffected, whereas the sight of Sam - well.

He was a pretty good-looking guy, was all. A hitman, so hardly perfect, for all that being a member of the Ha'la'tha was, of course, a perfectly respectable occupation.

More or less.

It was a very _Tauron_ kind of occupation, at any rate - even Sam's brother, generally held up as an example of how far a hard-working, intelligent Tauron might come from being a scrawny good-for-nothing kid growing up in Little Tauron, even Yussef Adama, or Joseph Adams, as non-Tauron called him nowadays, did the occasional bit of work for the Ha'la'tha.

Larry didn't, but then, Larry was a bit of a nobody. He liked it that way. He'd worked hard at being a nobody for most of his life.

And then he'd met Sam and here he was. Throwing all of that carefully built up obscurity out of the window for the sake of a hot body.

"Something on my face?" Sam asked, putting down his spoon. He'd licked it a few times, but casually, without any suggestive looks or anything like that.

"Just checking out your ink," Larry said, which was a generally acceptable reply in these circumstances.

"Yeah?" Sam said, but mildly, not as if he was calling Larry a very poor liar. "Got rather a lot of them, although most of them are under my shirt."

An invitation for Larry to peruse those tattoos at his leisure later, some place more private, failed to follow. Larry's own collection was so modest as to be non-existent.

He'd lost loved ones, yes - who hadn't? His parents had been born on Caprica, though. His family had done so for nearly three generations, meaning few of them had died violent deaths. The civil war on Tauron with all of its atrocities was something one heard about on the news, in between the stock prices, the weather and the latest Pyramid scores. It wasn't _personal_.

It was said that Sam had killed a soldier there, shot the woman with her own gun. It was said he'd done it to defend his brother, and that he'd been all of nine years old at the time.

An admirable action, of course - Larry was enough of a Tauron to respect defending one's family. Still.

"You're not about to fall asleep on me now, are you?"

Still, when he showed that kind of smile, it was hard to picture Sam as some sort of cold-blooded killer.

"Sorry. Long day." Larry considered faking a yawn, then decided against it.

Sam chuckled. "Come on, then. I'll walk you home."

 

They agreed that the weather had been fair for the time of year, that the Bucs had made a bit of a poor showing last game and that the new park had gone unacceptably (and entirely unsurprisingly) over budget.

Larry swiped his keycard, unlocked his door. Turned to find Sam looking at him with a certain air of expectation. "I don't suppose you'd like to come in for some coffee? Or something else?"

Not quite the question he'd been supposed to be asking, or the one Sam'd been expecting, probably.

"Ah," Sam said, and if Larry hadn't heard the stories, he might have mistaken the guy for shy.

"Next time, maybe?" Larry asked.

"I'm fine with this time, if you are," Sam said and yeah, that was definitely not the grin of someone who was shy. "Or next time. Or the time after that one. I'm a patient man; I can wait."

Larry tried to determine if that meant Sam was cocky and optimistic, or just patient and actually, seemingly, just a little bit shy.

"Come on in, then," he said, expecting Sam to step past, to go inside and hopefully not be too appalled at the sight of Larry's unprepared-for-visitors bachelor's pad.

Instead, Sam asked, "May I?" very politely, and Larry said, "Yeah, go ahead," not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but figuring that whatever it was, he'd be all right with it.

(As it turned out, this one time, he was entirely right.)

(Sam tasted of chocolate and mint, very faintly.)


End file.
